


Games People Play

by Steamshovelmama



Category: Primeval
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 09:34:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6977887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steamshovelmama/pseuds/Steamshovelmama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What did Helen and Nick see in each other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Games People Play

**Author's Note:**

> Archiving a few old pieces of work.

_Oh, the games people play, now_  
_Every night and every day, now_  
_Never saying what they mean_  
_Never meaning what they say._

Helen had always been in control in her relationships. She thought this essential for a woman. Set the pace and keep them in line. It was a philosophy that had served her well.

She had been keeping Nick Cutter in line for a few months now. In accordance with her usual practice she rationed access to her body sparingly, to make him value what he would get. On the other hand living in a state of chronic sexual frustration was getting tiresome so… maybe holding out had served its purpose. He was certainly keen enough and that thought made her clench her thighs together.

Helen surveyed herself in the mirror of the ladies. Just enough make-up, shoes uncomfortable enough to look fantastic and a killer dress: a flared skirt below a tight bodice that squeezed her breasts together and up. She had long ago decided that if nature had burdened her with an ample cleavage she might as well use it to her best advantage. Helen was aware of the theory that breasts were a visual mimicry of female buttocks dating back to a point when humans mated solely from the rear but she considered that the academic who came up with that one had obviously never seen a genuine, live pair of breasts. Real women did not have cleavage without assistance. Despite her doubts about the antiquity of the mimicry, though, it certainly seemed to work so she considered the expensive Rigby and Peller underwear worth every penny.

Her own theory was that a pushed-up cleavage was a true supernormal stimulus for most men – a strong artificial enticement that took advantage of a weaker natural behaviour pattern, like baby birds who, having an innate tendency to peck for food at a small red patch on their parent’s beak, then went crazy pecking at a giant red spot printed on paper.

Nick, more used to seeing her in jeans and shirts, had turned out to be no exception.

“Wow,” he’d said, upon picking her up for the evening, his usual laconic manner momentarily shaken. “You really look great.”

She didn’t mind that he wasn’t actually addressing her face. She’d anticipated, no, planned the effect. He looked good himself. He’d even shaved in honour of the nicer-than-usual restaurant and whilst he wasn’t wearing a suit – Helen doubted he even owned one –  
he’d done his best with smart trousers and an improbably striped shirt. Okay, so his hair was wild and curling over his collar, but she didn’t like men who were too tidy or neat. It made her wonder if they were tidy and neat in bed, too. The sort who’d fold their clothes as they undressed…

The heels were killing her but it was all part of the Look. As were the seamed hold-ups which weren’t actually that uncomfortable providing she didn’t have to wear them much longer.

Not that she expected to have to.

The meal had gone well. Nick hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off her. She doubted he could even remember what he had eaten. Certainly he had almost missed his mouth with his fork each time she had breathed in. She loved the attention and, if she hadn’t already made up her mind, she would have decided there and then to reward him later that night. When she touched his leg with her shoe he had jumped and looked directly into her eyes.

Men, she felt, were just too easy. It was not a happy thought and it cast a shadow over her mood. It would be nice to be surprised occasionally.

His eyes were the most amazing shade of blue. So pale you’d expect them to be cold but cold was the last thing they were right now. Holding her gaze with a dizzying heat he lifted her wrist and kissed the back of her hand. She smiled warmly but the smile froze as he turned her hand and held her palm to his mouth pressing his tongue against skin. Her eyes widened as jolt of arousal shot through her then her thighs tensed as he set his teeth in her palm and bit. It hurt, just a little, but that was lost beneath the surge of desire flooding her.

Okay. So that was unexpected.

His self-satisfied smile told her he knew exactly what he’d done.

“So,” he said casually, his thumbs circling the place his mouth had rested, massaging his saliva into her palm. “Are we equal, now?”

She stared at him with fresh eyes knowing she must look as needy as he did. It wasn’t the way she normally played it but something about Nick Cutter had got under her skin. He held her fingers so tightly it was uncomfortable but she liked that, too. She cleared her throat.

“I don’t know. Can you keep up?” Knowing it was childish she lifted her fork and, holding his eyes, slid a mouthful of something between her lips, her tongue darting out to pick up the last of the sauce.

Childish or not he swallowed hard before reaching over and pressed his forefinger to the corner of her mouth.

“You missed some,” he said proceeding to suck his finger just as suggestively but with more licking of his lips. “Do you really want to do a Tom Jones in public?” He caressed his wine glass suggestively. “Because I can,” he squeezed her hand again, “definitely,” digging his thumb into her palm, “keep up….” He raised his eyebrows.

She laughed because it was so absurd but at the same time she was so turned on she couldn’t think straight.

“I think I’ve eaten enough,” she said. “Can you call for the bill? I have to freshen up.”

Without waiting for a response she snagged the silly little shoulder bag she had brought and swayed off to the ladies. When she returned he was waiting by the doors holding out her coat for her. This was far more formal than they were normally and she was unsurprised when the back of his hands grazed her breasts as he helped her on with it.

He had parked close to the entrance so she didn’t have far to endure the high heels. She was satisfied with the heat of his kiss after he shut the driver’s door. He leaned over; slid one hand to the back of her head fisted the other in her collar and pulled her sharply against him, his hard lips opening hers to his exploring tongue. She felt her heart start to race and she clutched at his upper arms as his hands slid around her shoulders, pulling her upper body hard against him.

They were both breathing heavily as he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers

“Oh, yeah,” he muttered against her hair. “I’m definitely keeping up.”

She leaned back. “Nick Cutter, you can try to keep up with me,” she smiled and looked up at him from lowered lashes. “But I’ll beat you.”

Nick turned the key in the ignition. “Is that a promise?” he asked and the invitation in his voice kept her blood hot. “And do I get a turn?”

The images that ambushed her imagination shook her to the heart. Her mouth was suddenly dry, her heart pounding.

“Is that what you like?” she asked in a low voice that she was gratified didn’t shake. “Should I be prepared for whips and handcuffs?”

For a moment she thought she had hit too close to home but then he just smiled in the dim light.

“Would that bother you?” His tone was casual, humorous. She couldn’t tell if he was playing or not and that, too, was new and interesting.

“You’ll have to find out.” It was the best she could manage when most of her higher brain functions seemed to be giving up and the lower ones were otherwise occupied.

She was glad the roads were fairly empty that late at night. The motorway slip road was clear. It wasn’t a long drive home and the anticipation was making Helen hypersensitive. Every nerve was firing. She was aware of the pressure of the seatbelt against her stomach and breasts, the sharp smell of the upholstery, the cool air against her face…

Nick was smiling again. “So, do I get to find out what you’re into?” He said, glancing away from the road to eye her breasts again. “I think I’m up to the challenge.”

The smug note in his voice was infuriating.

Helen felt the irritation wake a few neurons. She was half tempted to order him to take her home and leave him high and dry but… she was far too turned on herself and a night with Nick Cutter seemed increasingly appealing. This was a new side of him. She’d seen him passionate but this more deliberate assault was… exciting.

She wondered how far she could push him. She reached her right hand across to rest it on his thigh. He glanced sideways and, catching her eye this time in the glare of the sodium lamps, smiled back. It made him look quite boyish.

Sliding her hand further up his leg she noticed his muscles tense as she drew circles on his thigh. He made no comment but rubbed his fingers over her knee as he changed gear. Unable to see his expression in the dim light she heard his sharp intake of breath when her fingers reached his crotch. As she curled her hand back to find the zip his head shot round to look at her so fast that she felt the car swerve slightly. She eased the zip down in small stages, her fingers at an awkward angle. Nick swallowed audibly, choked slightly but said nothing. He probably still thought she was just teasing.

It took a short struggle to free his fly button. Nick was staring fixedly through the windscreen at a small knot of traffic a little way ahead, his knuckles standing out where his hands gripped the steering wheel at exactly 10 o’clock and 2 o’clock. As she slid her fingers into the gap his breath hissed in his teeth. She was waiting for him to catch her wrist and pull her away but he kept both hands firmly on the wheel. That was quite impressive. She had tried this before and discovered that, despite being such a common male fantasy, it usually resulted in panic.

With surprised pleasure she found him almost fully hard beneath the smooth jersey of his briefs. Almost hard but bent uncomfortably to one side so that it must have been a relief for him when she pulled the elastic away from his waist. She wasn’t looking at his face anymore. She could hear him starting to breathe faster as she smoothed her hand over his length. He took one hand from the steering wheel and reached sideways attempting to cup one of her breasts. She pushed his hand away, unwilling to allow him the initiative. He returned the hand to its original place without protest. Glancing up she noticed he seemed to be bracing himself, regaining a measure of composure until she unhooked her seatbelt and bent over him. He made one strangled noise as she slid her mouth over his cock.

There was no further sound from him as she worked her mouth up and down, stretching her neck to take him as deep as she could. His stomach muscles were rigid with tension but he continued to drive smoothly, as far as she could tell. As adrenaline coursed through her she added a tight hand around his cock, curious to see how far she could push him. He was breathing heavily through his nose.

After what might have been a couple of minutes, when her neck muscles were beginning to protest loudly and she was more impressed than ever with his self control, she felt the car veer to the left. Nick’s thigh muscles had developed a fine tremor and he had begun to hunch forward slightly, his stomach pressed firmly against the side of her head. The dim light faded. There was a final sharp less controlled turn to the right, the road becoming very uneven and the light dying almost completely before Nick turned the engine off and let out a heartfelt groan.

The noise he made as she released him and sat up was more of a whimper.

“What?” he asked, breathing rapidly. “Now you stop. For Christ’s sake Helen…”

She just looked at him, a small smile on her face, her own breathing ragged, and he collapsed forward resting his forehead against the steering wheel.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Just…fuck. You are a crazy woman, you know that?”

“I asked you if you could keep up.” She could hear the fresh challenge in her voice and as he raised his head she could just see there was a new, eager expression on his face.

“Oh, I’ll keep up.” His voice was very low. He released his seatbelt as he twisted towards her. She could see only his silhouette, now, and just for a moment a frisson of fear spiced her arousal. He took firm hold of her coat lapels and she gasped as he pulled her close. His lips closed on hers with a demand her body responded to with aching breasts and a warmth between her legs. She clung to his shoulders with one arm as she ran her free hand through his hair, down his chest, around his back under his jacket down his side and… He caught her arm before she could take hold of him again and, to her frustration, pulled away.

Her eyes opened at the sound of the car door. “What-” she began to ask before letting out a gasp so loud it sounded like a scream. As he slid out of the car, keeping hold of her coat, he yanked her hard across the two seats and into the fresh air. She grabbed at the doorframe to steady herself but she lost her grip. Once outside he jerked her upright and flattened her back against the side of the car pressing his body against hers from breast to knees as he ran both hands down the sides of her bodice, finding her nipples easily between the sudden cold and her arousal. He took hold of her breasts, kneading them, and buried his face in her neck as she threw her head back. As he circled her nipples with his thumbs she groaned and he ground his hips against hers.

There was an abrupt flash of light and they stood in the glare of a pair of headlights for a moment. In the brief flash Helen saw that they were parked just inside the gate to a field, a few hundred yards from the road and then she was left blind, aware only of the feel of the car against her back, the rear door handle digging into her hip, of the feel of Nick’s body against her front, his erection digging into her belly

“Come on.” He pulled her sharply around the open driver’s door to the front of the car. There was a second flash of headlights as she stumbled in her high heels over muddy tussocks of grass. She slid and ended up face first over the bonnet, the metal still warm, the smell of engine oil strong in her nostrils. She threw her arms out, bracing herself against the frame of the windscreen. She couldn’t think anymore, didn’t care what he did as long as he laid his skin against hers.

“Oh, yes!” There was something in the way he growled the words she had never heard before, something that made her heart race and liquid pool between her thighs. She started to turn to face him but he held her trapped with the weight of his body. Her thighs were caught against the hot radiator. She was whimpering now, a noise she would have hated if she had been thinking, but there was a glorious lack of anything but sensation in her consciousness. Nick braced himself with one hand between her shoulder blades, the pressure crushing her breasts against the warm metal. The other hand tugged her skirt up to reveal her thighs. He groaned quietly when he exposed her stocking tops and cold fingers circled the space below her high cut knickers.

The skirt was hurriedly yanked up to bunch about her waist leaving her buttocks only partially obscured by expensive black lace. She felt his hand run over her backside, fingers following the join of her cheeks down to the point where her thighs met. She couldn’t stop herself crying out and lifting her hips to meet his touch. He roughly shoved one knee between hers, spreading her legs wide then pulled at her knickers so that he could wind the side material around his fingers. With a hard tug that jerked her sideways he tore the seam so that she felt the cool air against her buttocks and then the smooth hardness of his cock pressed against her making her groan gutturally and press back against him

He rubbed himself against her buttocks then the weight vanished from her shoulders. She twisted to see him groping in a pocket. As he saw her turn he thrust forwards with his hips keeping her thighs pressed hard against the radiator. He tore open the foil packet with his teeth then his weight on her shoulders pressed her forward again holding her tight against the smooth metal. The feel of his cock returned but lower this time and slicker. His knees bent and he pressed into her but the angle was wrong and he used both hands around her hips to hoist her further up the bonnet leaving her nothing to hold on to. His fingers probed her then, in a movement so sharp and so welcome she yelled aloud, he buried himself inside her.

He held her in position with one forearm resting across her upper back; the other hand curled around one hip, the fingers digging in painfully. He withdrew almost completely then thrust again with a strength and speed that arched her back despite his weight and drove the breath from her body in a harsh cry. Each time he thrust she felt the radiator grill dig into her thighs and her feet were lifted from their precarious hold on the ground He was grunting rhythmically with each thrust, she was making her own noises in time with his and his thrusts were coming faster, the weight on her back heavier as he began to hunch over her, his fingers were bruising her hips and it all felt so fucking good – his breathing changed suddenly, his hand clenched and his whole body became rigid. He shoved into her one last time, gasping hard then with a high-pitched, almost childlike noise, he came.

For a several moments neither of them moved although he supported his weight with both hands either side of her; then he carefully withdrew, stripping off the condom as she rolled round to face him. For a moment he seemed to debate what to do then rummaged in a pocket for a grubby tissue. He wrapped up the sticky latex and returned it to the pocket before he met her eyes.

As she stood Helen’s skirt had fallen back to where it should have been. Despite suspecting permanent stains on her dress she looked fairly respectable so she felt quite safe in snorting with laughter at the sight of Nick with trousers still halfway down his thighs, his shirt tails flapping in the breeze.

He smiled sheepishly in return. “Well, it wasn’t quite what I had in mind for our first time.” He was rapidly adjusting his clothing and discovered his fly button was missing. He pulled his shirt down.

“Disappointed?” she asked, composedly pulling her ruined underwear from around her ankle.

His head shot up. “God, no, I-” he trailed off, took her hand and pulled her against him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She smiled at him. For some reason he didn’t relax.

“Really?” He hesitated. “I’d have stopped. If you’d said I’d -”

She was at once reassured, disappointed and irritated at this show of insecurity.

“Nick Cutter,” she said sharply “If I’d wanted you to stop I would have made sure you stopped.” She stuffed the ruined knickers in his breast pocket. “Now, I think we should go back to your place.”

He pulled her close. “My place?”

“Oh, yes” she tilted her head back to catch his eye. In the flash of another set of headlights she saw his face was shiny with sweat. “We aren’t done, yet. You still owe me.”

A broad grin spread across his face “Oh, right, right,” he said and she felt him relax. “Well, let it never be said I don’t pay my debts.”

She smiled back. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you do. Just one thing,” she added. “I’m driving.”

_And they wile away the hours_  
_In their Ivory Towers_  
_Till they’re covered up with flowers_  
_In the back of a black limousine._

_Games People Play – Joe South_


End file.
